Solace in the Abyss
by Eutychus
Summary: Through the abyss known as life in Sunnydale, two unlikely souls find a peculiar comfort in one another. Ch. 2 is up!


Series Title: Solace in the Abyss Author: Eutychus Rating: PG Disclaimer: Unlike my insanity, this I cannot claim. It all goes to "Grr.Arg." Spoilers: BtVS S3 (spoilers indicated in -~-; hope it isn't too confusing) Distribution: I would say "Just tell me where" but it's highly unlikely that a) it'll be distributed and b) I'll be told. Just do whatever your conscience tells ya. Summary: Through the abyss known as life in Sunnydale, two unlikely souls find a peculiar comfort in one another. Author's Note: This is my take on Buffyverse. In my mind, it did actually happen. Call me demented, I don't care. IT DID HAPPEN. A lot of this is eppy filler. A lot of ppl hate it when ppl do this, but I don't care. I probably curse here and there in the fic. I know this is called justification, but I don't believe in cursing and only did it to stay in character. Oh yeah, I was debating as to whether this should go under BtVS or AtS. I chose AtS 'cause I think its fans will appreciate this more, and I like AtS more than BtVS. Part One  
  
-~-  
  
Buffy remained stolid even in his close proximity. She would not break. She would not allow herself breakage. "What I want from you I can never have. You don't need me to take care of you anymore. So I'm gonna go."  
  
-~-  
  
Willow reached for Xander, kissing him passionately.  
  
Oz and Cordelia quickly entered the basement, seeing movement and embracing hope once more. They were there! They were there. Embracing one another. Loving on one another.  
  
"Oh God!" Cordelia exclaimed solemnly, turning to run up the stairs at the sight of the two clinging to one another.  
  
The brunette was halfway up the stairs when the charred steps instantaneously gave beneath her running feet. She flailed, falling heavily into the space below, onto a rubble pile of old concrete and rebar. The cheerleader lay still as a long piece of rusty iron rebar protruded from her left side  
  
-~-  
  
Cordelia held a picture of herself, Xander, Willow and Buffy with their arms around each other, her eyes bitter with salty tears. Slowly, the brunette cut off each person with a straight, vertical cut. She let each piece fall into the cool ceramic bowl. Sighing, she took a match and struck it. The flame merged with the pictures in a forbidden dance.  
  
*  
  
Cordelia was well-aware that Buffy was watching her. She felt the other girl's eyes boring into the side of her dark head. Heck, she was probably the talk of Scooby-dom. "Look! Cordelia was rejected by the biggest loser of us all!" How comical. She'd seen the three of them sitting together chatting. Xander laughing. How quaint.  
  
She wasn't going to be the object of their hilarity. Or pity. The sympathizing look Buffy was giving was a look of-  
  
How dare she! That's it. The brunette couldn't take it any more.  
  
Making a look of nervousness flash across her face, the future actress glanced at her watch and cursed under her breath just loud enough for Anya to hear. She looked back to the new girl, who was staring absently at the stage and sipping her caffeinated concoction.  
  
"Oh crap. Daddy's gonna be ticked. I was supposed to be home fifteen minutes ago! I'll talk to you later!"  
  
Giving the new girl a brief farewell kiss on the cheek, Queen C glided to the door-a short distance. A peer-one whom she'd dated not long before Xander-carried his drink hastily back to the dance floor, bumping into her slightly. With a brief stop, he smirked, walking on as if nothing had happened. Freak.  
  
Tensing her muscles, Cordelia placed a supporting arm over her tender abdomen that had begun to pulsate at the movement, trekking the five feet to the exit. Tempted to raise hell, she made her departure. She needed to get out. Fast.  
  
Once the night's cool air hit her, her body seemed to cave in slightly. The grip around her stomach tightened out of frustration, only increasing the pain. She would not cry.  
  
The Ice Queen would not cry.  
  
She walked, needing to get away from this place she'd befriended in her adolescent years. She needed to get away from her once-had friends.  
  
From losers.  
  
"Dammit," she cursed, looking down to where her arm snuggly sat, pausing. It hurt like hell.  
  
"What was I thinking anyway?" She muttered to herself, choking on a sadistic laugh. "'Daddy wants me home?' Since when? God, look at me-the epitome of lame!"  
  
Hearing the faint sound of the door opening behind her, she forced her feet to move and her pace to quicken. She would not be the mockery of anybody. Nobody would see her like this.  
  
"Hey, Cordelia, wait a second."  
  
A shiver crept its way up her spine as the voice reverberated in her head. Buffy.  
  
What had she done to deserve this? What was up with the Buffy-stalking anyway? Anger surfacing, the brunette spun around. More pain. Screw that. Focus on the anger. In a cutting moment, Cordy tossed the idea in her head of actually asking Buffy if she knew that her picture was burned. Ashes. That's all the Scoobies were to her now. Cold, dead, ashes.  
  
"Did Xander send you to beg for him? Because if he did..."  
  
Buffy knew that she had to be careful. Cordelia Chase had never been one of her favorite people, just as she had never been a Cordette. She had to watch her words. "No. I'm a free agent, I promise. I just wanted to see how you are."  
  
Cordelia genuinely grinned at the Slayer's ignorance. So Buffy Summers was finally caring about people outside her own world now? Buffy, Ms. Look-At- My-Sorry-Ass, pitied Cordelia Chase?  
  
No way in hell was she going to let this happen.  
  
"Never been better."  
  
She would turn on her heel and walk away. A perky egress that proved how good she was feeling. She was not hurting. She stared at the blonde, wondering what considerate words would just roll out next.  
  
Buffy needed her to understand. She'd been through this too. "Cordelia, I know what it's like to be hurt by someone!"  
  
Snorting, Cordelia's mouth slowly parted as she took in the Slayer. So this was all about Buffy anyway. Big surprise. Words continued to come out of the other girl's mouth despite the wall that was between them.  
  
"Hurt so much that you don't think you're gonna make it. But I told my friends how I felt, and you know what? It got a little better," the smaller girl concluded.  
  
Suddenly, a vampire jumped behind Buffy, swinging violently at the Slayer. Blocking his clumsy approach, she was able to send a blow to his face. Consequently, he crashed into the pavement with a thud, landing on his side. Without hesitation, Buffy quickly made her way over to his crippled figure, throwing him another punch in his already-disfigured face. She grabbed his shirt, pulling him to his feet and spinning the limp figure around a few rotations before releasing his limp body.  
  
Coming to life, the vampire staggered a few steps but maintained foothold on the pavement. After advancing with a few kicks, Buffy blocked his feeble attempts. The undead figure went for the Slayer's head, ready to knock her unconscious. In her quick reactions, Buffy ducked the punch, kicking him fiercely in the side. His feet began to move, and his body staggered toward the bystander who had remained silent throughout the ordeal.  
  
Buffy grimaced, her body frozen in foreshadow.  
  
"Cordelia, look..."  
  
Cordelia was stationary as the vampire fell on her, sending her into the nearby garbage that was strewn about on the moist pavement.  
  
"...out."  
  
The vampire recovered quickly, barreling toward Buffy, who easily ducked his kick. As he came at her again, she quickly kneed him in the stomach, flipping him to his back and jamming a stake into his unbreathing chest.  
  
Buffy easily stood, glancing back to see Cordelia, who was flicking random pieces of trash from her scarlet dress. The cheerleader slowly climbed out of the garbage heap, looking more deflated than before. Buffy looked at her apologetically, afraid to approach the brunette. Behind her, she heard the light laughter of a group of girls. She quickly tossed her stake in the heap. Harmony and a few others traipsed, taking the time to notice Cordelia's situation. Their laughter echoed as they walked on.  
  
Buffy looked from the girls to Cordelia. The only thing she noticed was dark brown eyes throwing daggers into her own.  
  
"You know what I've been asking myself a lot this last week? Why me? Why do I get impaled? Why do I get bitten by snakes? Why do I fall for incredible losers? And you know, I think I've finally figured it out, what my problem is? It's..."  
  
Cordelia thought of saying it aloud. She thought of proclaiming it to the world. They needed to know who was the bearer of burdens. A tiny voice in her head screamed at her to do it.  
  
Just say "Buffy Summers!"  
  
Instead, the cheerleader shook her head, her brow taut with frustration and her eyes brimming with tears.  
  
"You know what? Never mind. Just leave me alone."  
  
_  
  
Angel watched the scene from the shadows, thankful that Buffy was preoccupied and couldn't sense his presence. She'd gotten good at that over the past few years. Noticing the shadows. Cordelia strode off, her steps quick, but heavy. Buffy watched the girl go before returning to the Bronze.  
  
The vampire was conflicted. He'd just come here to make sure that Buffy was OK. He hadn't seen her since their previous encounter at the mansion a week ago.  
  
His gaze went back to where the cheerleader had departed. Why was she walking? Didn't she have a car? Or two?  
  
Cordelia Chase hadn't seemed like she had it together in the five minutes that he had observed her. Buffy hadn't told him about the accident, but Angel had run into Xander one night outside the hospital.  
  
The vampire had been on his way to the slaughterhouse to get some food when he'd seen the dark-haired boy exiting the building. His first thought had been that Buffy was hurt- bleeding. dying. In that split second, his undead heart had weighed even more than usual. It had sunk into his gut.  
  
After a few snide remarks toward the former Scourge of Europe, Xander had explained the situation. Cordelia had seen Xander and Willow and had ended up getting impaled. It hadn't been a big surprise. Xander and Willow together, that is.  
  
Even though he'd never really been friends with the snobbish brunette, Angel had went up to her room on his way back from the butcher's. He'd had no clue what to say, but had just known that a friend of Buffy's was worth the visit. Granted, he had known that Cordelia had never been a friend of Buffy's. He'd heard Buffy badmouth the girl more than he'd wanted to admit. Not that the cheerleader hadn't deserved it. She had been a priss many of times.  
  
*  
  
Angel hesitated outside the girl's room, not really wanting to enter. He and Cordelia had never sat down and had a serious conversation. They'd each just fringed the Scooby's. Cordelia had been mostly silent, but outspoken when something hadn't gone according to her plan. Angel had been a gopher, a pillar, and a contact. Cordelia had been ignored mostly because of her ignorance, and mocked behind her back when she wasn't around. Angel had been present almost every time, always included in the group's endeavors unlike the girl lying almost motionless in the bed before him. Flowers were in front of her on the table that hung gently over her bed. The smell of pollen flooded his nostrils.  
  
She was crying. He could hear her shallow, forced breaths. Her suppressed whimpers. He gazed through the window, glad that her head was turned away. The phone rang. He witnessed her weak hands numbly wipe her face as she sniffled to put on pretense. As if the person on the telephone could see her tears, anyway. What was up with her and aesthetics? That thought, however, edged his mind as he watched the scene before him.  
  
"Hello?" Cordelia asked, shutting her eyes and placing her hand to her forehead.  
  
Angel's ears strained to hear the other's voice. He couldn't.  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"They think I'll get out tomorrow. Something about if my vitals are OK."  
  
There was a long pause.  
  
"I'll call you. Daddy can pick me up. Is he home from his trip?"  
  
There was another long pause.  
  
Cordelia's mouth fell open. "Mom, it's not like it was my fault! Why does he think that?"  
  
Angel could see her jaw clench as she listened to the person on the other line.  
  
"Fine. I'll call you whenever they tell me anything."  
  
The vampire watched as the girl's brow furrowed and she looked at the phone, holding it away from her.  
  
"'Kiss kiss'? Thanks Mom, really," the brunette muttered to herself as she put the object down, her mother apparently having hung up.  
  
*  
  
Angel forced himself to enter back into the present. He emerged from the darkness, deciding to follow the brunette. Walking the streets of Sunnydale at night was never idyllic.  
  
_  
  
Cordelia noticed very light steps behind her, following her. She cursed having to walk, well-aware of who those steps could belong to. Just because she got a little skewered, Daddy takes away her only mode of transportation. Vampire. That's what could be following her. Step. Light crunch. Step. Crap. It could be a Stinky Demon who sprays toxic goo that would get in her hair and make her smell like Buffy after patrol.  
  
Buffy. If the Slayer was following her, she'd rip her ass apart for scaring the crap out of her. She didn't care anymore. She wanted that girl out of her life. It was all of her fault that this was happening to her! Before Buffy, Cordelia had never been impaled, bitten by snakes, dated Xander Harris, or even to worried about the things that went bump in the night. Once upon a time, they'd all just been lore.  
  
The things that went bump in the night were quite real. And one of them was following her. She was being tracked by it. What was she, a deer? Prey. Her heart formed a steady beat at the thought of it. It thumped wildly in her chest as she tried to stable her breathing.  
  
A part of her wanted to look back, but decided that walking quickly was her best option. A part of her wanted to surrender. She wanted to stop fighting and to give up. And yet another part of her wanted to scream for Buffy's help. That blonde had the ears of a beagle. Surely she'd hear.  
  
The cheerleader gulped, her pulse racing. Her mind felt like it would give out as it swirled. She felt like she was going to get sick. The back of her throat seemed to close up. Her hands were trembling as the bile rose in her throat. She shut her eyes to force back the tears. She stifled her cries, trying not to whimper. Her body collided with the dark pavement as her knees gave way to her fear. Dammit. She probably was going to die with a ripped, garbage-infested dress.  
  
_  
  
Angel stopped, watching the girl collapse onto the ground in defeat. His pace slowed more in confusion than concern. Slowly, he stepped away from the wall and into the open void that felt like a chasm. He moved toward the trembling girl, hovering over her. He was unsure of what to do. Touch her? That didn't seem appropriate.  
  
_  
  
Cordelia felt the creature hanging over her-behind her. This was it. She was finally dead. Buffy had completed her goal. She waited to be picked up and thrashed about. She waited for her fingers to be used as toothpicks afterward. Nothing happened. It was unnerving. IT made her mad.  
  
"God, can't you just kill me already?!" Her faint voice quivered, surrendering as it forced itself into the dark pavement.  
  
Turning, she looked up to face her predator. Breath escaped her at the sight before her.  
  
Salty, demented-and-prone-to-being-evil, goodness.  
  
The last time she had seen him, he'd been evil. Buffy had said that he was OK now, after returning from the dead. How did already-dead vampires return from the dead anyway? Why was Angel following her? Angel had been following her! Angel had scared the living shit out of her!  
  
"What the hell are you doing?!" She screamed, moving to get up, but feeling a sharp pain in her stomach. Crap. She was bleeding. Stupid stitches. She gestured wildly anyway. "You.you just like to make with the freak show at night? Is that it?!"  
  
Angel simply stared at her, not knowing what to say. She was hurt. More than physicially?  
  
"What are you, dumb now? Hello? Is not speaking a side effect of hell or something?" Her mouth was agape as she waited for an answer. "Well, wasn't like you talked much anyway. 'Hi. Vampires. Down the street. Buffy, wanna make out afterward?' I guess that is the only subject matter that has emerged from your lips."  
  
For some reason, Angel didn't like her talking about his lips. She didn't say it sensually, but that's how it felt. His centuries of living provided pictures dealing with lips.erotic nights either filled with a beautiful lass or with a deep red liquid. It was unnerving, and made him uncomfortable.  
  
Yet somehow, the silence grew. She was frustrated, and physically hurting. She forced herself up, anger rushing through her veins as it crashed in and out of her heart. She was getting the silent treatment from a dead guy.  
  
"Fine. Play your little bit part in this lovely little game that everybody seems to have against me. I, on the other hand, am not going to act like a freak."  
  
With that, she turned to make her exit. He tensed. He could feel her breath sharpen even though she didn't wince.  
  
"Cordelia, you're hurt."  
  
Those three rushed words are what did it. She reeled again, forcing her remaining energy on the vampire.  
  
"Really Angel? How would you ever guess? Could it be that within the past ten minutes I've been rejected by a football player who didn't pass his graduation exam, thrown into a dumpster because your girlfriend likes to play kick-ass, and then I came this close," she emphasized by placing her fingers up in the air, centimeters apart. "This close, mind you, to having a nervous breakdown because you want to act like an undead stalker! Oh, and let's not forget the oh-so-wonderful fact that my dress is ruined from not only garbage, but also from the blood slowly seeping out of my body! How did you ever guess that I was hurt?!"  
  
She'd never spoken to him that way before. They'd never really spoken much before, but she'd never used that tone. It was as if she was on the verge of insanity. His eyes remained on the dark red spot that blended in almost too-well with her dress.  
  
"You need to get to the hospital," the vampire muttered, moving closer in an attempt to help.  
  
The brunette backed away, gripping her wound harder. She stuck a hand out in warning. "No. Just leave me alone. I don't want your help. Any of you, you got that? El comprehendo? Good!"  
  
"Cordelia, stop acting like such a bitch for one minute and let me help you!"  
  
The words chilled her. She'd cherished her profaned title, but once it exited hismouth, it chilled her.  
  
He acknowledged that he had her attention. "You need to see a doctor. You're bleeding."  
  
"Then I'll put a Band-Aid on it and I'll be as peachy as Georgia. God, I am not Buffy! I don't need you-or Xander Harris for that matter-to take care of me!"  
  
The words ebbed away the wall that Angel had built up over time. Flashes went through his mind. The times Buffy had gotten hurt, she had usually acted like nothing was wrong. She'd acted like everything was fine. She'd been such a prick about the entire thing. Somewhat like-  
  
"Cordelia, I'm just trying to help-"  
  
  
  
"Why Angel?"  
  
The two words stood stolidly in the darkness. The comeback had been too quick for his mind to register properly. It had been bitter, and backed with emotion. He searched his mind for easy answers. None were found.  
  
"Why?" She whispered, biting her bottom lip in empty anticipation.  
  
"Nobody else seems to care. Xander calls and asks me how I'm doing because he feels bad about what he did. Well, woo. The only reason he's whining is because Oz and Willow are back together. Buffy wants to talk me through my sorrow so she can tell me how pathetic your relationship is; she acts like she's some psychiatrist.  
  
"My friends at school made no effort to even call me while I was in the hospital. Not that I wanted them anyway. Harmony would have just occupied herself with all of the nice metal objects that she could see her reflection in. Speaking of which, my friends basically harassed me about my relationship with Xander when I got back to school today. He is a loser, but they act like getting something stuck through your stomach is a normal thing!  
  
"On top of that, Mom is too busy worrying about her own life and generation's inconsistencies and Dad only knows that my going to the hospital was the result of my own carelessness."  
  
"If nobody else cares, then why should you?"  
  
Her monologue was filled with biting emotion and hidden rage. And pain. Her question lingered in his mind, dancing with it almost. He didn't have an answer. Conviction permeated his soul.  
  
She almost wanted him to say something. She wanted something to cling to. Cordelia Chase, the girl who had everything she could ever want, wanted the impossible. Something was stuck in her throat. She found it hard to speak. The words were pushed out in a deep, unnatural breath.  
  
"That's what I thought."  
  
She hadn't expected him to say anything, so his silence shouldn't have disappointed her. She had never been Angel's friend. He was Angel-friend of mankind and boyfriend of Buffy. Cordelia, the Ice Queen, had never been considered as a part of mankind or Buffy's bosom buddy. That in itself gave her a reason to be proud.  
  
What good was pride, though?  
  
The older soul watched as the slim girl turned, bruised and deflated. His voice was motionless, lying like a heap of waste in his throat. What was he supposed to say? That he felt sorry for her? That he hadn't known? He formed a statue in the alley,  
  
Great. Spied on by Xander's blonde bimbo, reputed by Mr. IQ-of-6, accepted only by a freaking dumpster, and shoved away by Angel! Angel! Buffy's undead slave-boy couldn't even give her one good reason why he should help her, and he was a side show in himself! God, the blood pulsating through her veins even hurt. She could feel the liquid seeping out through her abdomen, which was aching-causing the cold to set in. Her hands were pulsating, too crippled to bend at the joints. Her heart was throbbing, heavy, and beating low and uneasily in her chest.  
  
*  
  
The walk home was brisk, and hard on Cordelia's body. She got home, easily entering the residence. Her parents were gone, probably milling about- being the socialites that they were meant to be and accepting their places in society. It was better that they weren't there, anyway. They'd just get onto her for pulling her stitches. It wasn't like she had a logical explanation or anything.  
  
Quickly grabbing some clean undergarments and sweat pants from her room, the cheerleader entered the bathroom, slowly stripping the ruined dress off her body. It clung to her stomach, the dried blood bonding it to her skin. Fresh blood flowed as she ripped it away in frustration. Hissing, she threw the garment on the floor, making a note to throw it away in the garbage can on the side of the house. That way, nobody would know.  
  
Reaching into her shower, she turned the knob to the left, wanting warm water to comfort her excruciating body. She gently removed her remaining undergarments, easing herself into the enclosed spray of water.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Cordelia lightly put on her clean clothes, feeling refreshed and defeated. She wanted to give up. Give in. Leaving the cool tiles of the bathroom, she retrieved the scarlet dress and turned out the light. Once in her room, she found fresh bandages in her top dresser drawer. Ones that hadn't been blood-stained. Softly wrapping them around her waist, she pushed it into her skin so that the adhesive would stick. A voice in the back of her mind reminded her that the beige wrap didn't match her gray sports bra or her gray sweat pants. She shut that voice out, not really caring.  
  
Cordelia wanted to shut all of the voices out of her head. Her parents' voices. Her friends'. Buffy's. Xander's. Heck, even hers for once. Sighing, she decided that she should clean up her mess first. She grabbed the dress, scrunching it together until it fit in her right hand easily. Off to the trash can it went.  
  
_  
  
Angel lazily gazed back to the windows that peered into the Chase kitchen, hearing pending footsteps. Closer. Closer. Dammit. _  
  
The brunette tiredly opened the glass doors, stepping onto the wooden porch and walking across the stained planks to the stairs, which led below-to the trashcans.  
  
_  
  
The vampire watched as he saw the flip-flop clad feet. Covered legs. Bandaged stomach. Sensuous-  
  
Cordelia's chest. Neck. Head. Uh-oh. Her breath hitched. She knew somebody was there, even in the darkness. His voice was inert.  
  
"Cordelia, it's me. Angel."  
  
The voice made her body go stiff. For a brief second, everything shut down. She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. Creepy-crawly. Night. Dark. Alone. Angel. Buffy. She hated Buffy. Angel. That stupid vamp-  
  
"What do you think you're doing here?" She questioned bitterly, easily finding her voice through the exasperation and fatigue.  
  
He was tired of putting up with her self-righteousness.  
  
"I came here to see if you needed help, alright?! You were hurt, so I figured you could use help-"  
  
  
  
"Well you figured wrong, so stop acting like a voyeuristic freak and get the hell out of here."  
  
"What is your deal?" The vampire asked quietly, a hint of amusement in his voice. He winced slightly. He'd never spoken like that before he'd met Buffy. "Deal" fell into the Buffy vocabulary section.  
  
What was he supposed to do without Buffy?  
  
He focused back on the brunette before him. He was mad. How could she go around with the attitude she had?  
  
"God, what is up with everybody?! Buffy reaches out to me, and now you actually begin to care? Give me a break, Angel. I mean, pathetic much? Sheesh, you guys deserve each other. You're both so lame you can't even see it."  
  
Angel shifted his weight slightly, biting his tongue. Something caught in the back of his throat at the mention of he and Buffy as a couple. He knew he would always love her.  
  
He was still mad.  
  
"Oh, so it's Buffy and me who are the 'lame' ones? That's interesting considering your only friends laugh at you, your parents don't really care if you're half-dead, and your boyfriend cheated on you with Willow. Willow! You know, Cordelia, I felt sorry for you. I really did. Thanks for opening my eyes."  
  
Immediately, the vampire felt bad for putting down the witch. He'd always liked Willow; it's just that.she was Willow.  
  
He had never been that hasty to anyone in Sunnydale before. Well, soul intact anyway. He watched the girl intently, her gaze having been lowered to somewhere at his feet. The damp dress dangled from her hand, almost falling from her grip.  
  
"If I see your face around here again, I won't hesitate to stake you."  
  
Her voice was flat and cold. As her eyes met his, they glistened earnestly. She allowed a thick pause to settle into his gut.  
  
Turning, the cheerleader slowly made her way to the trashcan which set against the house. Her back was straight with regality. Her feet were tired. Her heart pumped acrid blood.  
  
When she turned back, the vampire was gone.  
  
_  
  
Fear. Angel had always sensed that in the brunette while he was in her presence, even though it had appeared in trace amounts. The last words she had given him had forgotten that ingredient. Hatred, not fear, had resided in Cordelia's breath. It had seemed to envelop her.  
  
The former Scourge of Europe hadn't left the teenager's side because of her threats, even though they hadn't been full of the empty verbosity to which he was accustomed. He had no doubt that she wouldn't act on her words.  
  
It didn't frighten him. In all honesty, he could take her down in a half- step. It was the emotions that he'd evoked that made him leave the girl. They were almost sinister.  
  
Angel had tampered with her nature, molding it with his cutting accusations.  
  
It had been guilt that had made him leave-riding him off gallantly into the shadows.  
  
What had he done? 


End file.
